


Sweet Sleep

by cl195238



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, First Time, Light Angst, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Relatively Canon Compliant, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-20 16:07:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cl195238/pseuds/cl195238
Summary: Brienne hates Jaime Lannister, but she doesn't mind watching him sleep.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 6
Kudos: 57





	Sweet Sleep

It was too much to look at him straight on. A man that handsome was practically a novelty, and he definitely knew it. It had become habitual for Brienne to avoid lingering looks at Jaime Lannister, for she worried deep down that sometime he might catch the spark of approval in her eyes. The same look he probably saw in the eyes of nearly every woman he met. No, that would be undignified and worse, he would gloat. Not that he hadn’t done plenty of that already.

But the Kingslayer was asleep now, despite the fact that his hands and feet were rather uncomfortably bound and the morning dawn had come some time ago. Brienne was close enough to the face of her insufferable captive to be able to really take it in.

He was, she decided, better looking than even Renly Baratheon. Renly had always been sweet and good to her. This Lannister was infuriating. If anything, she should be biased against him, but she couldn’t deny it. It was a fact undiminished by his time in the squalor of captivity: the Kingslayer was beautiful.

She felt she shouldn’t have been so intrigued by his blondeness- Her own hair was nearly Targaryen white, but while hers seemed almost devoid of pigment entirely, his gleamed with a dozen shades of gold, still radiant despite a layer of filth, splayed out on the ground around his sleeping head like a halo. For half a second she allowed her hands to twitch lightly, imagining losing her pale fingers within his golden strands. 

She cautiously eyed the sinew of his neck, his throat, the flecks of silver in his beard; his mouth, lips parted as he breathed softly in his slumber, his _nose… _It was overwhelming how taken she was with that sleeping face, its ruggedness and sweetness at odds and yet completely harmonious.

His fine eyebrows arched and he stirred, jolting her out of a near-trance. Instinctively, Brienne’s hand shot out to rest reassuringly on his stomach. She held it there steady as she watched his chest rise and fall at irregular intervals, all the while afraid to breathe herself. To be caught gazing in admiration at her captive was a humiliation Brienne of Tarth was unwilling to suffer.

Without warning, his hand shot up and encircled her thick wrist. Brienne froze in terror- her eyes widening, sapphire blue and more panicked than they would ever be in battle. Keeping a hold on her wrist, he dragged her hand lower, below his rough tunic, then up between his legs. She could feel his hardness, and as foreign as it felt to her, she knew immediately what it was. Brienne didn’t pull away, mostly because of shock, but also for another reason she didn’t fully understand: an intense curiosity that she was unwilling to admit to herself was desire.

She knew she should be outraged at the gesture, that the Kingslayer deserved a beating for this even though she questioned whether he was fully awake or even aware of what he was doing, but something more powerful in her resisted the urge to move her hand from where it now rested firmly. She formed her fingers into a grip, shocked at her own actions. _I’m gripping Jaime Lannister’s cock_. The thought electrified her, as she waited in semi-horror for him to awaken and realize that it wasn’t Cersei’s hand that had encircled him.

She still hadn’t moved her gaze from his face as she watched the corners of his mouth form the slightest smug smile, his eyes remaining closed. This roused the fear in her chest, but as she maintained her hand’s position on its newfound prize, excitement rose in her as well.

He maneuvered his hand down her wrist to caress his fingers around hers as she held his cock. He pressed into her rough knuckles, causing her to squeeze it more firmly, and she felt it twitch and harden further. Brienne’s insides surged, her terror growing fainter as excitement took over entirely. _What are we doing?_

“Wench,” he broke the silence, eyes still closed defiantly. “If you’re going to watch me sleep, you could at least offer to service me while you’re doing it.” His eyes opened, finally, with a smirk. _Cat’s eyes._ Brienne let go immediately and recoiled in horror as she was violently jerked back to reality.

Jaime sighed and rolled over, facing the opposite way, and Brienne was left to nurse the ever-familiar sting of rejection. He’d already made it clear that she repulsed him, and honestly she couldn’t blame him. He was cruel. He was making fun of her. He didn’t crave her touch. Why would he?

Wishing she could get away, but unwilling to relinquish her prisoner, Brienne barked that it was time to get up while Jaime pretended not to hear.

She grabbed him by the shoulders, _strong shoulders- _she hated that even now she noticed- and attempted to pull him upright, but he caught her wrist again. _Gods!_ _How was his hand even freed?_ She wondered, fully realizing that she had been compromised, that her attraction to this impossible man was getting in the way of duty.

_Both_ of his arms were freed, she soon discovered, as he possessively pulled her close and pressed his body into hers in an embrace that caught her off guard completely. She sank into him almost involuntarily, as if her instincts had taken control. He pulled her mouth down to his and they both sunk to the ground, half-kissing, licking and biting at each other with reckless, wanton abandon. Brienne didn’t know who she was or what she was doing, but she felt more alive than she could ever remember.

“Wait!” She croaked, unwilling to lose herself completely in the frantic embrace, “I’m tying you up again.”

“Okay…” he mumbled, “worth it!” And as she somehow simultaneously shackled him, kissed him, and pushed him to the ground again, he let out a moan that made her entire body flush.


End file.
